FIRST AID
by lookskindagreyout
Summary: Warning: spoilers! but in a fun way. Herr Major's having some issues, and turns to an angry, on-staff psychiatrist who revels in splitting open his mind like an oyster, setting out to find just what seems to be the problem. slight RipxMajor.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any of the Hellsing characters, living or dead. And I weep.

_I submit this story with only the intent to amuse. don't take any of it seriously, kiddies, and just have fun. I leave you with the words: "Why so serious...?"_

FIRST AID

I. prescription

Dok stood over The Majors' lifeless form, slumped on his side on the operating gurney. His leaders' body was still, but the doctor watched in concern as his white-blonde eyelashes fluttered wildly, discolored suddenly by a few, dark beads of blood that seeped from the Majors' eyes, spattering his pale face with crimson tears. Dok gave him his dignity, brushing them away with his thumb as he said softly, "Awaken."

The Majors' eyes seemed to snap open mechanically, his blue irises whirring with glowing bits of binary code as the reboot sequence started up. He blinked, the human emotion of confusion shaping his features as he looked up, "Dok?"

"Yes, Herr Major," Dok responded tiredly, turning away to gaze up at the monitors of vital signs that lined the walls of the operating theatre.

"I shouldn't ask why I'm here, should I?" the Major smiled wryly, "And for the more reason, why I can't move."

"You may as well," Dok sighed, "You've had another relapse. The magnetic synaptic relays at the base of your brain are disconnecting again, letting your mind run amok in some of your lovely little memories. We've had another casualty."

The Major looked concerned, "Take it from me that I would be nodding in understanding, if I could move my head."

"I've disconnected the motor impulse adaptor on your spine for the time being, so you won't get frisky while I fix the problem," Dok explained, folding his hands behind his back as he looked down at him thru his many lenses, "But I'm afraid this is going to hurt like hell, regardless."

"Oh. Lovely." the Major elevated a brow, "My memories, you say?"

"Yes. Most of them from before you… well, died, actually."

"I didn't see them."

"Who?"

"The ones I normally see. Alucard, that butler, the Ivans. I didn't see them." Dok rolled the Major onto his back, stripping away his leaders' bloodstained undershirt and rubbing icy alcohol onto the back of his neck, "Hey, getting kinky now, are we? Anyways, I didn't see all that nonsense. I saw London."

"London?" Dok questioned, turning away to rummage thru his surgical tools, "Merry old London? Churchills' London?"

"Something like that. But I saw it on fire. It was quite fun. Not dark and on fire, like when I was in the Luftwaffe, but bright…beautiful." he looked at the doctor out of the corner of his eye, "The way I want it to be. Dok, I need air…"

The doctor adjusted the Majors' head to hang over the edge of the gurney, "Sounds wonderful. It's a wonder you murdered one of the soldiers to such a fantasy," He brought out a clear plastic bit, holding it up as he pulled the surgical mask over his own mouth, "Bite this."

The Major raised a brow again, grinning, "You're really beginning to enjoy this aren't you, you deviant?"

"Shut up," Dok grumped, jamming the bit into his leaders' teeth. The Major was left staring at the floor as Dok continued, "This isn't a patch job, you know. I'm going to have to do some deep tissue repair, when I'm thru with you…"

"Why do I--_NNNnn_!" The Major bit down hard as the buzzing surgical saw tore at the back of his neck, and his body gave a jolt. He spat out the bit, crying, "You _dick_!"

Dok chuckled, "You're right. I am enjoying this."  
The Major winced again as Dok set down the saw, prying open the incision with two pairs of surgical clamps and jamming a screwdriver into the gap of his titanium spine. "If I could move I'd be kicking your ass up and down this ward, you quack," The Major hissed.

"Big words for a man on the slab. I told you this would hurt- It's already weird enough that I get to converse with you during the process. Would you like me to describe what I'm doing?"

"Tell me, Dok; are you a surgeon, a damn junkyard mechanic?!" The Major retorted, "Pay attention to what you've doing back there!"

"Well, if you're going to be like that…" Dok said, and the Major hissed with pain as he twisted apart the links of steel bone that connected the spine to the skull, exposing the mass of wires that comprised an artificial medulla oblongata. The Majors' leg gave a kick as sparks shot from the wires.

"You're doing that on purpose!" The Major accused.

"Absolutely not! If I wanted to do something purposeful, I'd be using your parts on the ships' main engine!" Dok snapped back.

"Don't push me, Dok. I might just--" and the Major flat lined.

"Oh My God!" Dok shrieked, his scalpel clattering from his hands in horror, "What the hell did I hit?!"

The Major blinked as his heartbeat began to registered once more. "_Hah_! Got you!"

"You just _died_ for your own general amusement, you freak!" Dok screamed, striking his leader across the back of the head, "Do you have any idea how sick that is?!"

The Major laughed, "Alright, alright, I'm sorry, I won't do it again. Can we get on with this? I'm getting hungry, and I daresay you won't be hand feeding me."

"Fine. Just no more chatter, I need to concentrate… oh no…"

"What? What happened?" the Major questioned.

"N-nothing, Herr Major…" Dok peered into the Majors' open neck in search of his scalpel, and at last gave up, apprehending a new one, "Nothing at all." and he continued with the operation, delving deeper into the base of the skull.

The heavy silence was at last broken as the Major sang out softly, "_It's the sub-standard motels on the-lalalalala-corner of fourth and Freemont…_"

"Stop that."

"Am I creeping you out again? My bad. Hey, do you think I could get one of those voice synthesizers, like the guys from N'Sync?"

"For the last time, they aren't robots. Now shut up." Dok moved the suspended magnifying lens closer to the Majors' neck, squinting down at the red, vein-like wires that connected precariously into the grey mass of the lower brain lobe. Carefully an painfully slowly, he tested each of the wires, discovering one completely severed, "Herr Major, this synapse looks… burnt," Dok said, "Have you been overheating?"

"I don't think so. At least, the parts of my body that are still natural aren't. I can't much feel the other ones."

"What could have caused such heat… ?" Dok whispered.

"I've been having a lot of nightmares, lately," the Major offered.

"So your natural psyche is malfunctioning?" Dok said, stripping the tiny wires with a fine pair of forceps.

The Major frowned, bitterness in his voice, "There's a reason we're not all robots, Dok," he said, and winced, "Watch it back there. A human can't malfunction, because they're more like fruit- they rot, from the inside out."

Dok laughed, "Interesting analogy. What do you mean?"

"We all get bruises, thru life. It's up to someone else to choose us before those bruises start to turn us, and soon, we're too far gone to be of any rational use." He was silent for a few moments, before adding, "And we poison those who choose us."

"I'm going to recoat these wires with a heat-resistant polymer. I'm reconnecting the damaged relay now- how do you feel? Mentally?"

"Mad," The Major mused in singsong.

"So normal. Any fluctuation in vision, movement?"

"I'm nearsighted and I can't move my body, you putz."

"Sarcasm at an all time high, I see," Dok frowned distastefully, retrieving a small spray can with a narrow, straw-like spray nozzle. Expertly he applied the sticky, purple substance to the wires, watching them dry black.

"I have my moments," The Major agreed.

"Well, I'm assuming that one of your 'moments' is what gave you your meltdown," Dok said, beginning to remove his holding clamps, "The full extent of the human mind is yet unexplored- You may have melted the wire yourself."

"Wait- you mean, like telekinesis?" The major snorted, "Your saying I have telekinesis?"

"No. I'm saying that you may have been thinking such strong thoughts about something that it caused a pyrogenic reaction at the base of your skull. I'm advising you to stop thinking-"

"Consider it done."

"-about what is upsetting your chemical balance. Therefore I'm prescribing a mandatory psychiatric evaluation."

"Whazzat?" The Major said, confused, "Dok, I don't have _time_ for that. Besides, we don't have a physiatrist…" he looked up as Dok chuckled, "…do we?"

"You're in luck, Herr Major. Millennium does, in fact, have a psychiatrist," Dok said cheerfully, starting on his stitches, "…But I don't think you'll ever guess who."

_oh, goody goody. you read it. good for you! clap for yourself! yaaaaay!_


	2. Chapter 2

2: The Basic Emotions

"Do I _have_ to go?" the Major whined.

"Yes," Dok answered, "For the hundredth time, yes. We don't want a repeat of yesterday morning, do we?"

"Can't I do it tomorrow?" The Major continued to whine.

"Good God, shut up!" and Dok shoved the Major into the lounge, slamming the door and locking him in.

"But Dok! She's so _scaaaaaary_!" The Major wailed, scratching at the sealed exit.

"Who's scary?" Someone said indignantly from behind him, and the Major swallowed.

"No one, Zorin," The Major turned, smiling fearfully at the muscular woman that towered above him, "Eh, it's nice to see you, eh, well…"

"Yeah, I hit the gym a lot," Zorin flexed her arm, beaming proudly.

"My god, your bicep is the size of my head. I am morbidly amazed."

"Come on in, have a seat," Zorin said, motioning to the small sofa near the window as she took a seat in a high-backed leather office chair, "Let's get this show on the road, right?"

"Uh. Yes." The Major took a seat, looking around nervously, "This is the part where I openly reveal my innermost thoughts and feelings, and leave myself open for you to hypothetically mind fuck me for a half an hour?"

"Not just yet," Zorin said, retrieving a remote from the table, "I'd like for you to get comfortable, first. Go ahead and lay down, and I'll put on some music. What genre do you like?" she asked as he lie down. The couch was too small to lay on, and his legs poked off one side while his head was cocked against his chest at a painfully sharp angle.

"Classical?" He answered.

"Well, classical is for pussys, so we'll listen to some _Nazareth_," Zorin reasoned, starting the booming rock music, "Let's begin."

The Major was silent for a few moments. "I'm not going to lie," He admitted, "I find this highly unpleasant."

"That's good, feeling is good, even if you feel uncomfortable," Zorin said, bringing out a steno pad and beginning to write, "Perhaps it's better for you to work out of your comfort zone."

"Are you really a psychiatrist?" The Major asked uneasily.

"I can crush your skull with my thighs. Does it matter?"

"No, ma'am," The Major answered immediately.

"Good. Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and please try to answer them honestly," She cracked her knuckles menacingly, and the Major swallowed, sweat beading on his brow, "Let's begin. How have you been sleeping?"

The Major looked over the dome of his own round stomach at a painting of a single, green pear that hung next to the clock, "Well, not much, actually. And when I do, sometimes I…" he trailed off, mumbling into his tie.

"What's that?" Zorin asked.

"Listen, this whole thing is stupid. I don't need someone poking around in my business, telling me I'm crazy _again_. My problems are my own, and I don't--" The Major let out a small scream as Zorin reached forward, grabbing his nipple and twisting, hard.

"Answer the question, or I'll pull it off, you wimp," She growled.

"Okay!" The Major squeaked, and she released him, "Oh gawd, what is wrong with you?!" he cried, rubbing his sore chest, "I think you drew blood…"

"I'm a bitch, and I hate whiners. Talk."

"Alright. I-I've never slept well, actually, even when I was alive. As a child, I was prone to night terrors, and they just never lessened, as I got older." The Major settled back, folding his hands across his chest to protect himself, "You know, the way they should."

"So, you still have these terrors?"

"Occasionally. And, I… I wake up in the closet." the Major glared at the pear, his face turning red, "Go ahead, laugh."

Zorin seemed unconcerned, "No, searching out a small, safe place as a result of a nightmare is not uncommon. The sanctity of a closet, cabinet or small room symbolizes a place where no harm can befall us, much like the womb." Zorin began writing on the pad, "Young children have been know to die of asphyxiation, from just such a thing."

"What wonderful imagery. So you're saying what I'm doing is normal?"

Zorin chuckled, "No, you're screwed up, all right. The reason that I say that it kills young children is because it usually fades away with puberty, and is a rare condition among adults."

"Grand," The Major grumbled.

"How long has this been going on, and has it been accompanied with any other strange idiosyncrasies, such as bed wetting or anything like that?"

"The closet thing? It started when I was about five. I don't wet myself, in case you're wondering, but… there is something." The Major glanced over at her, "I… I wake up with blood in my eyes."

"Do you dream the blood?"

"No. It's there, and it's mine. I think I may be malfunctioning, because it never happened when I was alive. Back then, I…" he fell silent, but snapped back to attention as Zorin reached for his nipple, "I used to cry in my sleep, okay?! Back off, psycho woman!"

"What did these dreams consist of, to make you react so emotionally?" Zorin asked, sitting back again.

"I don't know. I can't remember them," The Major returned his gaze to the damn pear, "positively Freudian, isn't it?"

Zorin considered, "At last, we come to the unknown. Something in these dreams is making you cry like a bitch, and something in your awake consciousness is causing it."

"I was under the impression that physiatrists weren't allowed to call their subjects bitches," The Major grumbled.

"Get over it, bitch. Now, I'm under the impression that your human components are screwing around with your android circuits. Some strong emotion is messing with your wiring, somehow transforming you from fat bitch to proverbial bad-ass."

"Could we _please_ not use the term 'bitch' …?"

Zorin set down the pad and pen, addressing him seriously, "I'm certain that this is not a second personality surfacing is what I'm saying, because you have no amnesia of the incidents in question. I am going to attempt to access these strong emotions by trying each of the basic emotions- Sadness, anger, joy, and fear- and stretching them to your own personal extreme."

"How come I have only one _good_ emotion?" the Major questioned, his alarm rising.

"Stop whining, bitch. I'm not applying you to my own personal extremes because you'd probably die. Now, the first emotion we will address will be sadness, as you have explained that these dreams are the first indication of a malfunction." she stood, stretching, her muscles rippling under her black tank-top, "And what better thing to make you horribly depressed than the realization that your body is overweight and, essentially, disgusting?"

"I know where you're going with this," The Major warned, sitting up in the couch, "And it's not going to happen, _ever_."

Zorin grinned, "Oh, yes, it will. Meet me in the gym, six tomorrow, bring tissues, you wimp. And don't even think about skipping out, because I'll be notifying Dok of my prescription."

"Devil Woman!" The Major cried, "Horrible, gargantuan, hulk shrew!"

"We're out of time," Zorin smiled.

xXx


	3. Chapter 3

3: Sadness

"Herr Major, wake up!" a high voice sang into his ear, and he blinked his eyes open, giving a cry as the sheets were ripped away from him.

"Geh-wha-aah!" the Major stammered, sitting up to rub the blur from his eyes and stumble for his glasses, jamming them onto his face, "What the hell?!"

Hans stood silently at the foot of his bed, and Schrodinger perched beside him, beaming happily, "Wakey-wakey, Herr Major!" the werewolf purred.

The Major coughed, grumbling groggily, "Why? Did the war start without me?"

Schrodinger laughed, "Nein, Herr Major! Dok gave us orders to get you up and down to the gymnasium, and we get to use whatever means necessary!"

"Oh, gawd," the Major growled, flopping back down and covering his face with his pillow, "Zorin, and that ridiculous therapy regiment. Forget it, I'm not going."

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Schrodinger warned cheerfully.

"Go away. And tell the she-hulk she can have me when I get breakfast and a shower." and the major shut his eyes tiredly.

"You'll be _sooooorry_…" Schrodinger said in sing-song.

"I'm sure," The Major scoffed.

He was suddenly hefted by the waist, and slung over Hans' shoulder, the Captain giving a soft grunt of effort, "What the--put me down immediately!" the Major cried, his glasses sliding from his face as he gave a kick of surprise. Hans started for the bathroom, Schrodinger tagging along at his heels, "Where are you taking me?!"

"I told you you'd be sorry, Herr Major!" Schrodinger yipped.

"Insolent pup!" he cried, before he was plunged into a bathtub of cold water, drenching his under shorts and undershirt, "D-d-d-d-!" He stuttered, his lungs and jaw seizing with cold, and he shot to his feet, gasping and shivering, "_Why you_-!" he bellowed, reaching for Hans.

"I picked you out a jogging suit, Herr Major!" Schrodinger chirped, shoving the black two-piece into his leaders arms, "Funny, all of yours were brand-new…"

xXx

The Major entered the gym, still grumbling as he tugged at his black synthetic trousers and jacket. "Ridiculous…"he whispered to himself.

"Oh! Good Morning, Herr Major!" someone said, and the Major looked up, his eyes widening with awe. Rip Van Winkle smiled down at him, her long black tresses pulled away from her flushed face to run down her back in a braid that reached to her waist. She was dressed in a black sports top and purple shorts, and the Major followed the glistening beads of sweat on her skin down her open curves, his breath catching in his throat.

She set her hands on her hips, and he took note of her fingerless training gloves, "What are you doing here? Surely you're not going to be… _exercising_, are you?"

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and said calmly, "Ahem, yes, well. I just came to see Zorin, for-for personal matters, nothing of consequence. What are you doing here?"

Rip laughed, striking a stray hair away from her amethyst eyes, "I'm here every morning, Herr Major! Have to keep at my physical best, before the war starts, am I right?"

The Major chuckled, "Perhaps I should come here more often, then," He mused, chancing a sideways glance at her.

"Well, don't change too much, Herr Major," She smiled, patting his stomach, "We love you just the way you are." She started away, calling, "Zorin! Herr Majors' here to see you!" And Zorin emerged from the weight room, drying her face with a towel, "I'll be in the shower."

The Major found himself falling into step behind the tall shooter, "Yes, we'll be in the shower…"

Zorin grasped him by the collar, dragging him back toward the treadmills, "_Men_," she scoffed, "Distracted by the first piece of ass that comes along."

"Might I add a _sweet_ piece of ass," the Major interjected.

"Shut up and get onto the treadmill," Zorin said, tossing him effortlessly against the machine, "and run until you throw up."

"I should tell you that I can throw up on command," the Major offered, "So this could be futile."

"The entire thing is futile," Zorin growled, "we're just here to humiliate you to tears, not consider your feelings, okay?"

The Major sighed, "I don't care about my physical appearance," he said, "I figured that would be apparent, by now. This isn't going to work, because I simply _don't care_."

Zorin smiled, and the Major swallowed with dread, "That's the thing- _I _won't be the one doing the humiliating." she turned back toward the weight room, calling "JAN!"

"'Jan' had better be Yiddish for 'toasted bagel and coffee'," The Major warned.

Jan arrived in the gym in his signature blue jogging suit and black beaney, his lip piercings glinting as he grinned widely, "What's up, fat fuck?" he laughed in his own manner of a formal greeting.

"Oh," The Major growled lowly, glancing back at Zorin, "You want to bring out the heavy artillery now, is it?"

"I told you, your emotional extremes," Zorin shrugged, "I believe Jan cold make captain Hans cry, if he worked at it." She draped a towel across her shoulders, waving jovially as she headed off toward the shower rooms, "Call me when you're bawling, bitch."

"I hate you!" the Major called after her, "You know that, right?!"

"Okey-dokey, Dumb ass," Jan grinned, stretching and cracking his knuckles, "Let's start this shit, am I right?"

xXx

"Hello, how the fuck are ya?" Jan chimed automatically as he answered his ringing razor.

"Jan, _where the hell are you_?! Where is Herr Major?!" Zorin demanded.

"Ah, shit!" and Jan snapped his cell phone shut.

"What was it?" The Major asked, looking up from the television screen, his mouth full of popcorn.

"The burly bitch," Jan replied, standing and dusting the popcorn from his own jogging suit, "We've gotta get your fat ass back to the gym."

"But I did what she said!" The Major said, standing himself, "I _did_ cry!"

"Watching chick flicks and bawling your heads off," Luke snorted from behind his newspaper, "You guys are so _gay_."

"Shut the hell up, Luke!" Jan and the Major snapped at once.

"But anyways," Jan continued, "It's gotta look like I beat the hell outta ya, so, just let me punch you a few times, okay?"

"O-okay," The Major answered uneasily, setting the popcorn onto the sofa, "Um, wh-where do you…?"

"Just the stomach," Jan assured him, "and maybe the face a couple of times, but nothing serious."

"Alright…" the Major shut his eyes tightly, bracing for the pain to come. The was a sharp clang and the Major was sent reeling, stumbling as his vision flickered, and he let out a howl of pain, "what the hell are you _doing_?!" he cried.

"Ah- sorry, that one was a little hard," Jan considered, shifting the steel folding chair in his hands, "This one'll be softer, I swear!"

"Stop!" the Major said, falling to his knees as blood began to gush from his nose.

"Haaaah!" And Jan brought the chair down again on the back of the Majors' head, laying his leader headfirst on the floor.

The Major yelped in pain, scrambling to his feet and fleeing toward the door.

"Dude!" Jan called, running after him, "Hold up- just one more time! You're starting to look beat up!"

"_That's because you're beating me, you son of a bitch!"_ the Major screamed, darting around a corner as Jan swung for him again, barely missing the Major's shoulder, "Get away from me!"

"Quit being a bitch about this!" Jan said, darting after him, and he flung the chair.

The chair struck the back of the Majors' knees, tripping him up to land flat on his face and come to a skidding halt at the feet of Zorin, who merely raised an inquisitive brow. Jan stooped to retrieve the chair, and continued to flog the Major, letting out harsh battle cries of "Moonlight Butterfly! Moonlight Butterfly!"

"Stop!" The Major begged, wheezing with pain as he stretched a trembling hand toward Jan, "Please stop! I'll cry, I'll cry all you want- just please, god, _stop!_" Tears and blood ran down his face.

Zorin stilled Jan, asking sophisticatedly, "How do you feel, Herr Major?"

"Pain…" he whimpered, bleeding facedown on the floor, "I feel a lot of pain… I think my arm is broken…"

Zorin considered, then turned to Jan, "Does he seem sad?" she asked.

_"Please stop beating me!" _the Major cried.

Zorin shrugged, "It'll have to do. Thank you, Jan- your work here is done."

Jan dropped the chair onto the quivering heap of the Major, who yelped. "Later, losers," Jan scoffed, and walked off.

Zorin stooped, grabbing the Major by the collar and dragging him off down the hall, "It seems sadness is not causing your reaction," she said reasonably, "I'll talk to Dok about your next therapy regiment…and perhaps some bandages. Stop weeping, you big bitch."


	4. Chapter 4

4: Anger

"Good morning, Herr Major," Zorin said without looking up from her paperwork as he entered her office.

"Good morning, Zorin," he replied.

"Have a seat," Zorin pointed to the sofa, "I don't think you can lay down with that thing on your head, can you?"

"Oh, the halo?" The Major questioned, sitting and motioning to the framework of steel bars that encompassed his head and shoulders, "Dok says my fractured skull isn't too serious, and it should come off in a few days. But needless to say, I can't do much."

Zorin nodded, "That's good to hear. How are you sleeping?"

"The morphine is nice, when I mix it with Nyquil and Vodka," The Major offered.

Zorin continued, unheeding of his comment, "So no dreams. This is progress. But we must do some further delving into your emotions to confront the source of your episodes, I'm afraid. Sadness, as you have demonstrated, seems to be both pathetic and pointless to our inspection. So, we move now to anger." she looked up at the Major, folding her hands behind her head and leaning back in her chair, "Do you feel angry today, Herr Major?"

"Not really," The Major admitted, "I mean, normally, I'm pissed off at something or other -usually the world- but today…I think I'm still under the influence of my sleepy cocktail." he smiled softly.

"Wrong answer," Zorin said, sitting up an tilting her head to crack her neck, "We need to get you angry."

The Major shrugged as best he could, "I'm sorry, I'm just not feeling it. I got a good nights' sleep; Hans made me a Luftwaffle sundae and Panzercakes for breakfast; Rip smiled at me; people are dying in the middle east… I'm just having a really good day."

"Does this happen often?" Zorin asked.

"No. Most days are crappy and boring."

Zorin laughed in triumph, "Excellent! Your daily grind of mind-numbing, melancholy routine could very well be resulting in your lapses! Just what makes you angry, Herr Major?"

"Well… really everything in general," he considered, "Um… perhaps we can continue this session tomorrow, when I feel less inclined to float away on a chemically induced high?"

Zorin shook her head, "Forcing you to anger now would increase the factors of your instability, thus making you _more_ susceptible to a relapse." She clicked her pen, beginning to write on her pad, "Now, tell me, specifically, what kinds of things make you angry."

"Well… snoring people," he answered, "they're really quite annoying. And noisy eaters. The kind that chew with their mouth open." he shuttered, and Zorin laughed.

"Anything else?"

"The color orange. I don't know why, I think it's hard on the eyes. Pop culture- I've never been one for the crowd. Warm beer, open doors, chickens…"

Zorin stopped him, "I don't want your annoyances, Herr Major. I want something that really pisses you off, and why."

He tried again, saying with an effort, "An un-tuned violin."

Zorin paused. "What? Why?"

The Major looked slightly embarrassed, "When I lived in a boarding school in Berlin, as a child, there was this blind man, and he played the violin for coins. The problem is that he never tuned the damn thing, and it always sounded awful."

"Why does that make you angry?" Zorin said, setting down her writing and watching him intently.

The Major was silent for a few moments, watching his own hands in his lap, before saying, "He was just this blind old fuck, you know… a few of the other boys got together and ran him off, and I never saw him again."

"Did you ever tell him that you were angry at him?"

"No."

"Why?"

"He was _blind_, for Christ's sake. I might now, but could never bring myself to do that, when I was only a boy. It just pissed me off, because I could never…_do_ anything for him, besides give him my pocket change. And money wouldn't change anything, he'd still be blind." the Major shifted uncomfortably.

"So, you didn't like the old man, because you couldn't help him?" Zorin leaned forward, speaking very softly, "Herr Major, do you get angry at everything because you believe you can't change anything?"

The Major watched her for a few moments, expressionless, "STOP TALKING!" he yelled suddenly, making her jump with alarm. He laughed as she glared, and he chuckled, "Boy, I really baited you into that one!"

"Alright, Herr Major," she said stiffly, rising, "If you insist on being difficult, I'm going to bump up your regiment. Just to piss you off, I'm going to assign you the most annoying shadow you've ever had-" she tilted her head back, calling, "SCHRODINGER!"

The Major jumped with surprise as the werewolf popped thru the floor, standing before the large woman, "Hello, Zorin!" He said cheerfully, saluting, "You called?"

She smiled darkly at the Major, "Yes, Schro… I'd like you to take Herr Major on a walk, if you would."

xXx

"Herr Major, have you ever thought of changing your name?"

"No, I don't believe I have. 'Max' works too well."

"Well, I have. Wouldn't it be neat to have a really cool name, like a wrestler?" Schrodinger stood beside the Major as they gazed out at the ocean, their bare feet buried it the hot sand. He cast a stone into the rising and falling waves, "Something like 'Blade', or 'Viper' or something. I was thinking 'Spike'- do you like the name Spike?"

The Major shaded his eyes, squinting out at the distant horizon, "Not particularly," he replied, "A name is a name, regardless."

"Yes, but 'Captain Spike' has a ring to it, don't you think?" Schrodinger said hopefully.

"I suppose." The Major rubbed the sore spots on his newly healed forehead, where Dok has removed the Halo and wrapped his forehead with soft gauze, to protect it from the sun. his right shoulder felt sore, and he lifted his right arm to set it back into his sling; despite a higher rate of recovery for his mechanical parts, he still felt the wear and tear on his human ones.

"Herr Major, why are you fat?" Schrodinger asked, switching from one subject to an entirely different one, which he was prone to do, and had been doing for the last six hours.

"I like to eat," the Major admitted, "Come on. Let's go build a sandcastle in the shade- all this water makes me nervous." and he trudged back up the beach, Schrodinger tagging along at his heels.

"Why don't we all speak German on base, Herr Major?"

"To benefit the reader. Sometimes we speak Japanese."

"Ooh. Are you Japanese?"

"Not in the least."

"Are any of us Japanese?"

"I don't think so. Perhaps Rip Van, if you squint." They reached the solace of the shade of the overhanging palm trees, and sat in the sand.

"Do you like singing, Herr Major?" Schrodinger chirped, beginning to crush the damp sand in his hands.

"Take your gloves off, they'll get dirty. I prefer to listen to singing, rather than attempt it myself." the Major pulled off his jacket, doffing it onto the undergrowth nearby.

"Do you want me to sing?" Schrodinger pulled off his gloves, scooping sand in his palms.

"Sure."

"What do you want me to sing? I can sing anything. Well, everything except instrumental, but I can hum that, if you want."

"Whatever you want, Herr Schrodinger- Spike, whatever."

"_How is he even doing this?!"_ Zorin hissed to Dok in disbelief. The doctor only shook his head.

"Herr Major has always been an exceedingly patient man, even if it seems strange, from looking at him," Dok answered, and Zorin glared, "I fear the drugs may only be aiding him in his acceptance of Schrodinger's annoying drabble. I doubt you will be getting any results from this attempt."

"Don't condescend to me, _I will break you_," Zorin growled, resting her chin in her hand as she watched Schrodinger stick a starfish to the Majors' forehead. The pair laughed distantly, "It just means more drastic measures are required. Observe." And she tramped off down the beach.

Dok watched, wishing distantly he could touch the sunlight.

A shrill wail of despair raised the hair on the back of his neck, and he blinked, watching Zorin stomp the sandcastle flat, driving Schrodinger to tears.

"It's alright, Schrodinger," the Major comforted reasonably, "We'll just build another, don't worry." he fluffed the werewolf's hair.

"_Un-freaking-believable!_" Zorin howled.

xXx


End file.
